Saying the things that people won't say, and telling the stories that people don't tell, lies at the center of what Amy Schumer does. She applies the same merciless rigor to her own life, both in the material from which she fashions much of her comedy, and in how she talks about herself and her life offstage.
Here, for example, are three conversations with her about life before she became famous that took place during our interviews for her forthcoming GQ cover story—three conversations it is difficult to imagine taking place with many, if any, other modern celebrities.
ON SHOPLIFTING:
When you were young, you had a whole unusual fondness for shoplifting, didn't you?
Is it unusual? Actually, I think it's pretty typical of white girls.
Well, doing some shoplifting may be typical. But it sounds like you did a bit more than that.
Yes. I started just with my girlfriends—we would steal a bathing suit or some makeup or I don't know—and then I just got more serious about it. It became grand larceny when I was in college. I just discovered this department store where you could just take whatever and then return it for cash—no tags, no receipt, nothing. You know, thousands of dollars. It was exciting. It was the adrenaline—the actual act of getting away with it. It wasn't about the money, even though the money was nice. And I didn't feel bad about it—it was this huge corporation. You know, I never stole from people. I never stole from a little store.
You've said you might have stolen about $100,000 worth of stuff overall.
Sure. Yeah.
That's…
It's a lot. Yeah. I was stealing, like, age 14 to 21? I think I was arrested when I was 21. I got arrested stealing from Bloomingdale's with my sister—which I'd never stolen from before but Kim was like, "It's really easy," and then we found out it's the hardest place to shoplift from—and they kind of got it down to disturbing the peace, but if anybody dug into my record they would see that it was grand larceny.
What was the punishment?
Shit, what was it? Community service? A fine? I don't remember. But I just remember I was, "I don't want to go to jail." It felt really bad, being arrested. You have no say. And it was embarrassing. I was relieved because I got caught doing this other thing—had they caught me for the thing I'd been doing for years and years, I would probably have had to do time. So, relieved actually. But it sucked.
Was it easy for you to stop after that?
No. I missed it. It was a physical longing. It was hard. I don't ever get impulses anymore. It's been years.
ON HER COMEDY BOOT CAMP:
When you've talked your childhood and youth, you've detailed uncomfortable and difficult things that happened.
Yeah. After my dad got MS and we went bankrupt and my mom left him, that period from age 12 to 15 was a really rough time. And we all suffered from it, my siblings and I. It was just a major struggle, more so than most kids should ever have to deal with. [Pause] We weren't beaten. We weren't molested.
How did whatever happened then affect you?
It made me fearless and unbreakable and so strong. And a leader and maternal.
Did you realize it was making you like that at the time?
Yeah. I was like "I'm a badass."
And is it too trite to see a very direct line from that into what you do now?
No. Very clear. Especially the taking so much pain and making it into something to laugh at. That was my boot camp, those ages. I've just been in training to do everything I'm doing right now.
It's fascinating that so much comedy we cherish comes from such an unfunny place.
It's true. I think all comedians had a lot of pain in their lives. Like, a solid amount of pain at a sensitive time in their lives. I don't know anyone who didn't. A lot of male comics, it's just "My dad wasn't nice to me…didn't tell me he loved me." And that's enough. I think that's totally enough. But our family got a hundred extra helpings of that. [She points to a photo on her mantelpiece of herself and her father, both much younger, posing at the beach with arms round each other's shoulders.] I'm lucky—my dad did love me. We used to body surf a lot together.
ON FAKE BLACK EYES:
I'm fascinated by this thing you and your sister used to do when you'd go to Rangers games.
And give ourselves black eyes?
Yes.
[laughs] Did you see any pictures of it? [She scrolls through her phone and shows me a picture of them together with matching made-up, but realistic-looking, black eyes.] And then we had some where we wore neck braces. Jon Hamm saw us at one Ranger game years ago—he definitely didn't know who I was—and seeing Jon Hamm look at us like, "Oh my God…" [laughs]
So how did that start?
Well, I liked going out with a black eye. People really leave you alone. We thought it was hilarious because it's not one person that got fucked up, it's two. We would tell people that we got into something with each other. We just thought it was so funny. It makes people really uncomfortable. I like being all dressed up but then you're just, like, wearing a neck brace—just like a swing and a miss. Makes me laugh so hard. It feels kind of powerful to me to own something that awful to look at. It feels kind of empowering.
This was before many people would recognize you?
Totally.
How many times did you do that?
That I've left the house with a fake black eye? [Considers this] Fifteen? I went to Heidi Klum's Halloween party—Questlove was DJing and my sister and I were all dressed up, we looked beautiful, and the last minute I gave myself a black eye. I don't think it's normal, but I also swear I don't do it to be interesting. It just feels good. It's fun. It's just like a little social experiment.
Are the results in yet?
Yeah. Everyone is grossed out and doesn't want to look at you or talk to you. But the people who do—who go "What happened to you guys?"—I just love those people, because they weren't afraid to have an awkward moment. They had a question and they just asked it.
That sounds like a good description of your ideal audience—people who aren't afraid to have an awkward moment.
Definitely. I don't mind if they came a little afraid and leave a little different. That's my hope.